Not Just the Common Cold
by heartbroken21
Summary: The seaQuest intercepts an unidentified fatal disease, and Lucas becomes patient 0.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fanfic on this forum, only second to the entire website. I give © rights to whoever the credit is due for seaQuest, but the story line is my own.

1

Lucas jerked out of his half-daze at the sound of footsteps behind him. Quickly, he finished tapping the passcodes into the research computer and opened up a new web page. A dark hand dropped onto Lucas's shoulder and spun the office chair around to face its owner. Commander Ford was wearing an urgent expression on his face, and Lucas suppressed an amused smile.

"Lucas, how soon can you get that UEO password for the new up-link?" he asked demandingly. His brown eyes had bags beneath them, accompanying the usual laugh lines that did not, in fact, come from laughter.

Lucas placed his fingertips together beneath his chin in an arrogant pose. "Now, Commander, I thought the captain told you that you had to have those codes days ago. And why ask me?" Lucas grinned. "Maybe I feel that it would be too far from The Rules."

Commander Ford, with a single look, told Lucas exactly why he was to give him those passcodes.

Lucas's adolescent grin faded in an instant from his face. "Or maybe not."

He hastily brushed aside a pile of carefully compiled observation sheets until he saw what he needed. A slip of paper, consisting of a half-page of figures, was fished out of the mound and handed to the Commander.

Ford grinned and clapped Lucas on the shoulder. "You're a good kid."

Lucas managed a half-smile and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. A suppressed yawn escaped his throat. The research chamber blearily clouded in his eyes. He'd not slept for days, despite Dr. Westphalen's constant nags to get some sleep. Working on cracking the code for the worldwide bank system had stumped him on several occasions, and Lucas was determined to finish what he had started.

However, that didn't seem to be happening.

"Lucas," Ford said. "Lucas!" He snapped his fingers in the blonde boy's face. Lucas sprang awake, rubbing his temples.

"You need to get some sleep. If Dr. Westphalen finds out that you've been awake for seventy-two hours—"

"You've been keeping track?" Lucas asked, eyes still squeezed shut.

"Well, yeah. The captain has, anyway. He's a bit worried that you're overexerting yourself."

Lucas sighed and, while it pained him so, switched off the computer. "All right, all right. I'll go to bed if it'll make the senior crew rest easily."

Ford frowned, but he left without another word. Lucas watched him leave until he was out of sight, and then shuffled exhaustedly up to his quarters. Lucas, even in his state of supreme fatigue, couldn't help bewilderment at Ford's sudden loss of his straight-laced nature. It was some sort of pre-apocalyptic sign, Lucas decided.

After undressing, he collapsed into bed. The sixteen-year-old boy was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Captain Bridger slumped into his office chair with relief. "You finally got him to go to bed?"

"Yes, sir," Ford responded proudly. "He looked like he was about to fall asleep anyway. I thought it might be better if it was in his bed rather than the research lab."

Bridger rubbed his chin thoughtfully. At least, he pretended to be thoughtful. "And why, exactly, were you in the research lab anyway, Commander?"

Ford's self-satisfied grin faltered. "I—uh, well, I—"

"I thought I informed the _entire_ crew that those passwords were mandatory researching before now."

"Yes, sir, you did, but—"

Bridger sighed. "Commander Ford, you can't get the passwords from a computer genius. It's like cheating on a test."

Ford remained silent, jaw clenching.

"You are forbidden from getting answers from Lucas anymore, Ford. I would have expected better from you."

"Yes, _sir_."

"Dismissed."

Ford stormed from Bridger's office, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Bridger himself was completely disconcerted at the unforeseen personality shift. He was so deep in thought at this new disposition that he didn't notice the loading notice on his office's computer monitor. The Admiral face's abrupt appearance caused Bridger to jump out of his seat.

"Bridger?" the Admiral asked uncertainly. "You okay?"

Bridger sunk slowly back into his office chair, staring at the Admiral. After a moment's silence, he responded, "Yeah, oh yeah. I'm fine. What's up?" Bridger ran his leathery hand mindfully through his cowlick of iron gray hair.

"We have a rescue mission that needs to be fulfilled, Nathan." The Admiral waved his hand at Bridger's protests of his sleeping crew. "Don't worry. It's nothing strenuous.

"An underground farming facility's communication system is unresponsive. We've been trying to get in touch with them for several hours, but no cigar. The UEO needs seaQuest to go down there and check everything out, make sure they're all right. Its mostly parents and children down there, anyway. If you feel no pick-up is necessary, don't bother. We just need to be sure these people are all right."

Bridger sighed and slouched back in his chair. "Yeah, we'll check it out. What, do I have a sign stuck to my back today or something?"

The Admiral grinned, chuckling cheerfully. "It is entirely possible. Have a good night, Nathan."

"You too."

Nathan stood, messaging his forehead. With a heavy heart and even heavier eyelids, he headed up to the bridge to brief his crew.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Commander Katie shifted uneasily in the virtual-reality sub as she guided it around the underwater facility. Machinery seemed to have been shut down rather than broken down. Few lights shone from the seabed bubble, and she could barely see but a few feet ahead. As she neared the facility, however, Katie could see that there was something terribly wrong. No mini-subs patrolled the outside, no maitnence crews drifted around outside, and no workers were visible in the shielded sea mineral fields. The whole plant appeared to be a ghost town.

"Commander?"

Katie glanced up at the Captain. "No signs of life at all. I have a bad feeling about this place, sir."

Captain Bridger looked uneasy, but he said to the crew, "Let's get a launch down there to check everything out. If there's any sign of danger, abort immediately. We'll call for backup."

There was a chorus of "Yes, sir," as most of the senior crew and a few security majors began preparing for the launch. Captain Bridger leaned slightly on a nearby column, feeling older and wearier than he had in years, since he had received the letter about his son's death in-action. For a reason that Bridger couldn't say, he felt inconsiderably nauseous and short of breath.

"Captain?"

It was Crocker, looking gently concerned and worried. He set a hand on the captain's shoulder.

"You don't look good at all, sir. Maybe you should check into the infirmary for a bit. At least get some rest."

Bridger stood slowly, lightly shrugging off Crocker's meaty hand. "I'm just fine. Thanks for your concern. I'm getting too old for this job." He managed a dry chuckle.

Crocker grinned good-naturedly and clapped Captain Bridger on the shoulder. "Naw, you got too much vampire in you. You're not coming with us?"

Bridger shook his head. "Not this time."

Crocker nodded, dropping his cap onto his balding head. He hurried over to the departing launch and hopped in. Bridger watched him leave without envy. Exhaustion had overcome him with uncommon rapidity, and for some reason, Lucas's face surfaced in his mind's eye. His face was pale and…covered… with something. Bridger shuddered, shaking his head a bit. Why had that disturbing image come to mind?

As if supernaturally summoned, Lucas shuffled into the main cabin, brushing the sleep from his eyes. He'd clearly just awoken from a deep sleep.

"Captain?" Lucas called from the sliding doors. He rushed up. "Can I go? I swear I won't get in the way and I won't interfere and I—"

"It's too dangerous, Lucas," Bridger said wearily. "I can't let you go down there."

"But captain, there's nothing else to _do_ down here. I mean, I finished all those labeling and sorting jobs Dr. Westphalen set out for me. I mean, _please_, I'm _begging_ you…"

He wore the saddest, most pleading face that he could manage. Considering the fact that he greatly resembled a puppy to begin with, this feat wasn't a very difficult one.

Captain Bridger sighed for about the fifth time that evening. What could he do? Lucas was a young man, fresh and wily, with a desire for adventure. He was an aging man, tired and spent, with a desire for his bed. How could he deny him? Bridger was aware that exhaustion might be clouding his judgment a bit. Nonetheless, he had faith in his able-bodied crew, and Lucas may actually have some use in this expedition.

Bridger exhaled deeply…and then nodded. "Go ahead," he said reluctantly. "Just, don't try anything fancy. This is going to be a quick in-and-out mission. If there's security trouble, you all are out of there. Understand?"

Lucas nodded eagerly, grinning brightly. "Yes, sir. Don't worry." Then he paused. "Sir, you don't look so good. Maybe you should check into—"

"Lucas," Bridger said, clapping a hand on the youth's shoulder and guiding him toward the launch. "You might want to mind your own business for once, seeing that I have just granted you a _huge_ favor."

Lucas closed his mouth and nodded. "Thanks, sir."

"Don't mention it. The Admiral would have my head."

Lucas hopped into the main cabin of the launch, grinning like a little kid at Christmas. Bridger couldn't help a small, contented half-smile. If he couldn't drag himself out of this pit of misery—where had that come from?—maybe he could help out the boy.

Lucas settled into a launch seat and locked the seat belt across his torso. Commander Katie frowned thoughtfully as she slid into the seat next to him.

"Did the captain say that you could come?" Katie asked Lucas, puzzled, her fair brow furrowed.

"Yeah. It took a bit of—uh—convincing, but I think I handled it well."

"Uh, huh," Katie said doubtfully. Lucas glowered at her.

"Don't worry about it, okay, Commander?" Lucas told her. "It's just for, uh, future observations on military tactics."

The lieutenant commander continued to look ambiguous, but said nothing more. Lieutenant Ben Krieg dropped down into the seat opposite of Lucas and slapped high-fives with the teenage boy. The dark-haired man's cheerful reaction sparked a disapproving look in Katie's eyes, but she proceeded to sit silently.

Commander Ford and Tim O'Neill sat at the controls, O'Neill already pulling out into the departing bay. Commander Ford called back, asking if everyone was buckled in. The response was mutual, and so the two senior officers guided the miniature ship out of the seaQuest's entrance portal and down toward the silent plant.

Krieg struck up a joke with Lucas, who chuckled obligingly and shot back another. Tim O'Neill snorted unwillingly and coughed into his fist. Katie appeared to flame with anger, and Ben stifled a snicker with hack. Commander Ford scowled and rolled his eyes for Katie's benefit.

None on the sub suspected the ultimate horror below, or the dread and pain resulting because of it. None knew just how close all of them would swerve toward death within the next few days.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Ben broke out into hoots of laughter, shoulders shaking helplessly. Lucas had just informed him of Commander Ford's accidental "misplaced" passcodes, and how he had come practically _pleading_ to the boy. The dark-skinned Lt. Commander had his hands clenched tightly on the steering controls, knuckles pale, jaw set. Lt. O'Neill snickered openly, and Katie Hitchcock looked shocked. Those of the five accompanying security officers that knew Ford personally chuckled quietly.

"Is this true, Commander?" Katie asked, sounding flabbergasted and appearing tenfold that.

"Well, I—"

"_Commander, look out!_"

O'Neill had cried out just in time—the launch had swerved dangerously close to the metallic shell of the plant, nearly knocking off the right wing. Ford deftly shifted over to manual mode and twisted the steering wheel with all his power. The tip of the water-streamlining wing grazed the metal wall of the plant, and the launch began to pinwheel horizontally. Clamping his jaw down, Ford set out the emergency brake and attempted to veer away from the plant in vain.

After several seconds/years of tense, gut-wrenching screaming of metal against metal, the mini-sub launch slammed to a halt against the import-export portal located on the lower half of the right facility annex. Commander Hitchcock bunched up her shoulder, shielding her neck and thus sustaining nothing more than a slight bruise. Ben Krieg and the senior security officers were jerked forward in their harnesses, but that caused only minor, temporary soreness for their thick uniform body suits.

Lucas, caught off guard, was flung against his compressed plastic seat back, head smashed in contact with the hard surface. Blood, however small an amount, sprung onto the exterior of his scalp and stained his fair hair crimson. Lucas brushed his fingers gingerly over the gash, feeling the warm liquid smear onto his pale knuckles. A cold shudder ran down his spine.

The lights flickered off, along with a few comfort systems, such as temperature control and scent suppressant. A flood of malignant salty/chemical odors engulfed the crew, and the air suddenly became very, _very_ cold.

Commander Hitchcock felt Lucas's shiver beside her, and she placed one hand on his shoulder. "Are you all right?"

Lucas nodded in the dim light of the glowing emergency lights. "Just hit my head a little. I'm fine."

Katie looked skeptical, but she decidedly remained silently so.

Ford called back, "Sound off. Is anyone hurt?" and received varying levels of enthusiasm in uh-uhs and no, sirs. He himself had a substantial black and blue on the side of his head, where he had slammed it against the side of the pilots' cabin. No serious injury could be accounted for. Lucas's bleeding scalp was the extent of damage.

"All right, then." Ford unfastened himself from the pilot's seat, and O'Neill did the same for the co-pilot's. Stiffly but surely, the entire crew released themselves from their harnesses and began working on the portal. The intercom system was entirely silent when Katie Hitchcock attempted to contact the inner chambers, so she and the security crew—Crocker included—started to work through the entrance codes.

Krieg shuddered with cold. "Tim? Could you possibly try to get the heat back on?"

O'Neill's upper lip twitched as he turned back to work with the controls, brushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up on his nose. "I don't know if I'll be able to keep it on if I _do_ get it working."

Lucas unfastened his seat belt and went over to help Lieutenant O'Neill.

After several minutes of delicate, tactful work, Katie Hitchcock stepped back from the portal doorway. Moments later, it slid open. A strange odor seeped into the cabin, causing most of them to cover their mouths and noses or gag.

"Masks!" Commander Ford ordered, hastily following his own mandate. The crew quickly did the same.

"What is that _stench_?" Ben hollered, voice muffled by the plastic oxygen mask held to his mouth and nose.

Tim shook his head, pulling out an oxygen monitor. He watched it for a few seconds, and then shook his head.

"Nothing. The air's breathable, according to health standards."

"Says you," Ben growled, rubbing his arms to keep warm.

Katie rolled her eyes, removing her gas mask and placing a plastic pin on her nose. She held out a handful to the rest of the crew. One by one, they then filed out of the mini-sub and into the loading bay of the plant. Lucas trailed at the end.

The loading bay was completely empty. It didn't seem as though anyone had been working in it for a while, either.

"Hello?" Commander Ford called. "Is anyone there?"

Silence.

"Scan the bay," he ordered O'Neill, Hitchcock, and Krieg. "Make sure no detail goes unchecked. Crocker, you take your crew and survey the corridors. If you see someone, tell them to report to the loading bay."

Crocker nodded his affirmative and lead out his guys out. Lucas slipped out surreptitiously with them as soon as Ford's back was turned.

It wasn't long before they found a clue as what was going on. It was Katie who found it. She gasped and stumbled backwards into Ford, who caught her and set her down gently on one of the stools.

"Blood!" Katie spluttered. She pointed.

The red liquid pooled out on the floor, around one of the other stools. From the way it was splattered, it was either an artery spray or—

"Vomit," Tim said disgustedly. "No one cleaned it up. Commander—" He gave Ford a meaningful look. "I think there's a sickness on this plant."

A stricken expression rose steadily on Ford's face. All the color drained from it, and his eyes widened. He grabbed his com. device and beeped in Crocker.

Lucas stepped up behind the last man in line and began to take notes. The scratching of the pen was what alerted Crocker of his presence.

"Lucas!" Crocker called, without looking over his shoulder. "I thought you were supposed to stay in the bay."

"Well," Lucas said slowly, "the Commander didn't really _say_ that I had to stay, and—"

Crocker chuckled. "Lucas. You and Krieg."

Lucas grinned.

Crocker held up a hand suddenly. "Hang on." A door just ahead stood slightly agape. It seemed to be the only one unlocked.

"Let's check this room out, men," Crocker said. "No harm in it, anyway."

The team nodded. Lucas stiffened and saluted Crocker. Crocker rolled his eyes and proceeded cautiously to the door. He tried wedged his rather large fingers into the crack between the heavy metal door and the tall metal door jam. After a moment of scrabbling for a grip, he sighed and turned to Lucas.

"Could you get this open for me, Lucas?" Crocker grunted. "I can't get a good grip."

Lucas gave one of his angelic smiles and shoved his slender fingers through the narrow gap. With a single strained groan, he swung the door open as widely as he could manage. That instant, a stench so awful as to make Satan himself cringe slammed into Lucas, filling his mouth and eyes. He gagged and doubled over before he could see what the room held. That would be Crocker's responsibility.

"Sweet mother of pearl," he whispered, crossing himself hastily as he peered into the room. "What in the name of Christ happened here?

Lucas glanced up and gasped.

Let's hear a whoop-whoop for the cliffhangers! Anyway, I _should_ have the next chapter soon. I'm working on like four fanfics right now, so yeah.


	4. Chapter 4

4

"_Crocker! Come in, Crocker!"_

Crocker's com device crackled loudly from Crocker's belt loop.

"_Crocker, we need to evacuate the plant, stat! Crocker!"_

Crocker reached slowly down to his com unit and pressed down on the TALK button.

"Copy that, sir," he whispered.

Lucas started to cough. The stench filled his eyes and his mouth, burning the flesh. He cried out and began to swipe at his face. Crocker grabbed his shoulders and tried to usher Lucas ahead of him. Lucas fell to his knees.

"Lucas, you have to get up!" one of Crocker's team said shrilly. A few of them rushed up to help the boy and slipped their hands under Lucas's arms. The half-dragged him back to the bridge, Crocker trotting behind.

The scene behind them had no single words to describe its horror.

The room behind the cracked door was enormous, probably a main cafeteria or something at one time. Presently, it served as some kind of infirmary. There must have been a dozen rows of beds spanning the hall, around ten or fifteen in each row—at least. Nearly each bed was accompanied by a set of medical supplies, life support systems—and at least one body.

The bodies all looked alike. They were all black-skinned—they had _literally_ black skin—covered with small white blisters. Some of the bodies' eyes were frozen open: the previous white of their eyes were bloodred and the irises were a sharp azure. And the cafeteria room was filled to the corners with them: in the beds, collapsed over the beds, between the beds, in sleeping bags on the floor—everywhere. And there was blood, lots of it. It was splattered on the walls, on the floors, and on the bedcovers.

That grisly, morbid sight would be forever burned into the retina of each and every one of its witnesses.

"Commander!" Crocker bellowed, bursting into the loading bay. "_Commander!_"

Ford rushed to Lucas's side and angled his head up toward him. He lifted one of the boy's eyelids.

"He's unconscious," Ford said quietly, urgently. "Come on, bring him into the launch. We have to get him back to the seaQuest."

Crocker's crew obeyed promptly, and soon—after a few false starts with the engine of the launch—they were zooming off toward their ship.

Crocker burst into the loading bay with Lucas cradled in his arms. The crew on board the ship glanced up in surprise, and then someone called Captain Bridger. He was by Lucas's side in a moment, along with the med team, a stretcher, and a beset Doctor Westphalen.

"Get him onto the stretched, quickly!" Kristen barked at Crocker. "Load him down to the med bay and prepare a bed." This time, it was directed at one of the med techs.

All was promptly complied with, and in the blink of an eye, Lucas was lying in a bed in the med bay, with Westphalen and Bridger hovering above him.

"Wah—what happened?" Lucas muttered groggily, rubbing his eyes. He winced; the skin around his eyes was slightly tender for some reason. For that matter, his whole face sort of burned, like healing sunburn.

"I could ask you the same question," Westphalen told Lucas sternly. "You had us in conniptions for the last couple of hours."

"Crocker won't say what you all saw down there," Bridger said quietly, massaging his temples. "He's locked himself up in his quarters and won't answer to anyone."

Lucas gave Bridger a questioning gaze, and then it all cam rushing back: the blood, the bodies, and the appalling _burning_ stench…

He rolled over quickly in his bed and vomited over the side of the bed. Westphalen jumped up out of her swiveling chair and even Bridger jumped. Briskly coming to his senses, the captain grabbed Lucas's shoulders and kept him from tumbling over the side of the hospital bed. After a moment, Lucas's retching subsided and he slumped back on his pillow, face sheet-white.

Haltingly, with great pain and precision, Lucas told Nathan Bridger and Kristen Westphalen what he had seen. He watched their faces grow whiter and whiter, and finally Westphalen shook her head and silenced Lucas: the boy had started stumbling over his words and repeating himself.

"We need to give you a blood analysis, Lucas," Westphalen said tautly, face pale. _If he's infected with whatever those poor, poor people were…_

"And the rest of the crew that was down there," Bridger added. "We need to be absolutely _sure_."

Westphalen nodded stiffly and began broadcasting over the ship's intercom system.

"SeaQuest crew," she began. "All of those that were on the last launch need to report to the med bay immediately. _No_ one is to leave this ship until the OK is given." She repeated the message and clicked off the intercom device.

The med bay began readying their supplies as the crew filed into the bay…


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I apologized for the lllllllllllloooooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggg wait for the fifth chappie. As in, three months wait. Eh, so anyway, I blame this section on two cappuchino truffells and many episodes of House. Hehe...

5

"Well, the full examination won't be conclusive for another twenty-four hours," Kristen sighed, removing her latex gloves. "In the meantime, Ford, Crocker, Hitchcock, O'Neill, and the rest of the senior security division should be confined to their quarters, just in case whatever those poor people had is contagious."

"You don't think quarantine will be necessary?" Bridger muttered, so that others in the med bay wouldn't hear. "I mean, if it _is_ contagious…"

Kristen shook her head firmly, tossing her gloves in the garbage. "No quarantines. There is absolutely no reason to frighten

_(Lucas)_

the crewmembers. If the whole ship goes into a panic, who knows what people will do?"

Bridger nodded, reluctantly, gazing thoughtfully at nothing. "I guess. Just…don't tell anyone about this."

Dr. Westphalen rubbed his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Nathan. I'm sure this will all blow over soon enough."

Bridger nodded and forced a strained smile. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He hurried out of the med bay and up to the bridge, preparing to send those potentially infected down to their quarters. Westphalen watched him go thoughtfully, and then quickly turned back to her analysis on the blood samples.

Lucas typed a command into his mainframe dejectedly. He had been in his room for a few hours now, trying to forget the horrors of the plant auditorium. He knew that he wouldn't be sleeping much that night, if at all. Or, you know, he might pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow. He had been feeling sort of out of it for a while now…

"Lucas?" a familiar voice called from the doorway.

Lucas turned his head partway, although he already knew who it was. "Yeah, Ben?"

"What cha working on?" Ben asked, sidling up beside him.

Lucas smiled. "Trying to intercept a transfer of highly, uh, _educational_ movie downloads. It's more boring in here than the whole announcements bulletin in the cafeteria."

Ben grinned, glad that the subject of the plant had not been brought up. All of the crew had been moping despondently since they had been sent to their rooms, and Ben had hoped that Lucas would be the one exception. Even though he wasn't supposed to be outside his cabin/supply closet, he had been lurking around the ship for several hours, not once caught by the captain.

"Hey," Lucas said suddenly. "Aren't _you_ supposed to be in your room?"

Ben opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "Probably. But that's not really of your concern, m'boy."

Lucas rolled his eyes, looking back at the computer screen. "Right. And you are aware that I _could_ report you if I wanted to."

"You do want to," Ben said, smiling. "But you wouldn't dare."

"How's that?"

"If you tell," Ben said slowly, digging up eras of blackmail, "I'll have to inform the captain of the little incident that involved you falling asleep at the computer and an unknown virus which destroyed at least three months of files in the science lab."

Lucas frowned. "How'd you figure that out?"

Ben coughed. "Anyway, you wouldn't tell."

Lucas half-smiled and shoved Ben lightly, making him rock back on his heels. Suddenly, his grin faded into a look of vague confusion.

"Lucas? Something wrong?"

Lucas appeared not to hear him. Abruptly, he began swiping at his arms, as though being attacked by an unseen clouds of insects. His look of confusion turned to that of horror, and he started to whimper and claw at his eyes panickedly.

"Get them off!" he screamed, pushing away from his desk and violently tearing at his arms, his shirt, his eyes, his face. Ben backed up, startled.

"Lucas!" Lt. Krieg yelled, grabbing the boy over his shoulders and around his torso, trapping his arms at his chest. "There's nothing there!" He reached back and threw open the cabin door. "Somebody, quick! Get help!"

A security officer jogging down the spiral staircase immediately ran down to find Doctor Westphalen, and two uniformed patrols quickly rushed in to help the lieutenant with the writhing boy.

Lucas's shouts had turned into one long stream of frenzied babbling. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the yelling and thrashing stopped.

"Lucas?" Ben asked tentatively, releasing his bear hug on the boy. "Are you all right?"

Then the shaking started. It started as a vague trembling at the skinny boy's arms and progressed to a vicious convulsing throughout his entire body. Ben's knees buckled, and he quickly shoved his index finger between Lucas's teeth despite their painful, compulsive clenching.

"He's having a grand mal seizure," Ben said quietly, urgently, to the patrols, his face uncharacteristically pale and serious. "You, pin his arms. You, hold down his legs. We have to make sure he doesn't hurt himself before help gets here."

Ben glanced unwillingly down at Lucas's face, the blood of his mutilated finger contrasting sickly with the boy's ashen face and his eyes rolled up into his head. Ben restrained himself from hollering desperately for the med team to hurry it up.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Sorry for the length of this one...or lack thereof. I haven't had much chance to work on it, but it's a three day weekend, so I can probably squeeze in a few more chapters before it ends. I actually cough only seen the first season os SeaQuest, so if I've mixed up any information before from here on out, I apologize and am open to criticism.

6

"I don't know what changed," Ben repeated, rubbing his bandaged hand gingerly. "He was just sitting there, perfectly normal…"

_I was blackmailing him_, Ben kept thinking. _I was going to _blackmail_ him._

"And then he just started screaming," he finished.

The whole senior crew, including Tim, Miguel, and Crocker, was clustered around the glass wall that separated the rest of the ship from the quarantine area. Two doctors in blue Hazmat suits stood over the unconscious Lucas, checking his monitors and IV drip. Westphalen was chewing on the inside of her cheek nervously, one hand pressed against the glass wall.

"Is he going to be all right?" Tim O'Neill asked Kristen, though already knowing the answer.

The head physician was silent for a moment, and O'Neill wondered if she had heard him. Then she said, "Well, he's just had a grand mal seizure—as Lieutenant Krieg predicted. He's not epileptic, obviously, and he hasn't directly damaged his nervous system any time recently."

"So it was the disease," Katie said quietly, in more of a statement than a question. "On the plant. It was the disease."

Westphalen shook her head, slowly. "It's impossible to tell for sure just yet, seeing as we don't really know what the virus was in the first place…"

Crocker shook his head in denial. "No, Lucas can't have that disease. I would have it, or any member of my team. We're all perfectly healthy…I don't see—"

"Lucas is just a kid," Nathan said, speaking for the first time. "His immune system is weaker. That has to be it…"

"Or."

They all glanced at Ford. He was sitting in one of the swivel chairs, head in his hands, an expression of concentration crinkling his dark forehead. He was so quiet for a moment that they began to wonder if he had spoken at all. And yet, they had all heard him…

"Or what, Commander?" Nathan asked finally. He was massaging his temples. Lucas's sudden attack had taken a real toll on him, and Nathan had no idea what he would do if Lucas _died_. First, his own son, and then the boy who had been _like_ his son for nearly a year now—he would _really_ walk away from all this if anything happened to Lucas. No self-oaths, no promises—that would be it. And he wouldn't ever be coming back.

"Or…you remember how Lucas hit his head?" Ford asked finally, sitting up. "And his scalp was bleeding a little?"

Kristen Westphalen paled. "Surely you're not suggesting—"

"It's spread by blood transmission," Ben finished. He rubbed his fingers carefully, trying to appear calm. "Which means…that I probably have it."

Nathan Bridger shook his head and placed a hand on the lieutenant's shoulder. "Not necessarily. Krieg…_not necessarily_. Like I said, he _could_ just have a weaker immune system."

Ben nodded, not in the least reassured. Lucas's face kept flashing in his mind—the pure terror, the fierce and unnatural panic, the vacancy in his eyes…and then the blood splattered over his frozen face: _Ben's_ blood.

"We'll need to start diagnosing symptoms," Kristen said briskly, hiding her dread behind a mask of professional objectivity. Nathan gave her a haggard, bewildered look.

"The faster we can start going through the symptoms, the faster we can diagnose the actual illness, and then…and then start finding the cure."

Nathan nodded distantly. "Sure. Gather the med team and start going over the prognosis. I'd, uh, like to see Lucas for a while."

Kristen swallowed her bitter tears and nodded bravely. "Just suit up, and be sure to wash down afterwards."

Nathan nodded, not even looking at her, or any of them. He got up and started toward the chamber between the bay and the quarantine area. The crew watched as he slowly, methodically suited up and attached the oxygen tube. Respectfully, they left to another part of the bay when Nathan entered. They tried to imagine that it was because they wanted to give the weary captain some time alone with the ill boy, but they couldn't hide from the burning truth: none of them wanted to be around when Captain Nathan Bridger broke down into hysterical sobbing.

Nathan stepped hesitantly into the isolation area, gazing intently at Lucas. Even asleep, the boy had the tortured look of a child trapped in a bad dream suspended on his face. Carefully, the captain pulled a chair up to the hospital bed. For a while, he just watched Lucas's face, as though expecting him to open his eyes and shout, "Boo!" like this was all some kind of joke. Everything had been a joke to Lucas. He was only kid, anyway; he deserved to have fun at some point. Though this ship, Nathan thought darkly, hasn't been much of a place for play. It hadn't been any kind of place for a child to grow up in.

He remembered the first time he met Lucas—eyes sparkling, smile bright. He hadn't admitted it, but once you got past his annoyance of the boy's supreme smugness…well, he had _impressed_ the captain. Not just his intelligence, but the golden aura of life that seemed to shroud him. Lucas reminded him of…well, his son. There was even a slight moment of shock: for a brief moment, Nathan thought it was Robert himself crouched before him.

Now, as Lucas lay motionlessly on the starched hospital bed, his pasty face nearly blending with the pillowcase's shade of white, Nathan felt a lump form in his throat. He had never known how Robert had died, although he had kept himself up at night trying to imagine. Now, he envisioned his son there instead of Lucas, taking his last few breaths. He couldn't look away as Lucas's hair darkened, his face lengthened. There was even that freckle, right on the tip of his cheekbone. Nathan's eyes closed, and, almost unconsciously, he took the boy's hand. Then it was Lucas again.

He leaned forward and rested his head on the surface of the cot. Tears soaked the patternless sheets as Nathan fell into sleep.


	7. Author's Note

Author's Note:

I know it's been a long time, and most of you have probably stopped waiting around for me to repost (and if you haven't, well, maybe life isn't for everyone) (bweehee). HOWEVER. I have decided to work on a few more chapters because I'm on break and have nothing else to do. So, I should have a next chappie up sometime soon. My writing style has changed a bit, and I've gotten a little older, but I still hold onto my firm view of Lucas's deserved main-focal-point status. .

And also, in case you were wondering about some of the weird figures of speech or mannerisms, I was reading Stephen King's _Firestarter_ at the time I was writing that. Yes, I was still in seventh grade at the time, but whatever. (Or maybe I wasn't quite in seventh grade. Can't remember.) Anyways.

Love,

Bri

P.S.—Whoever can send me a website where I can buy seasons two and three of SQ has my eternal blessings and thanks.

Out.


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